Postcard from the Forbidden Land (Part I)
By Rolf Fenner RPIA (Fellow)
How time flies. Two years ago, I was appointed as Chief Policy Adviser for the Planning Institute of Australia. My new role allowed me to meet many wonderful planners from around the country and to convey their views and concerns to policy-makers and senior politicians. I thoroughly enjoyed the work.
But late last year, I reached a point in my life where I felt it was time to do something different and hopefully more challenging and spiritually rewarding.
As I began my “mid-life” career gap year, I was both apprehensive and excited to see what personal and professional opportunities would arise during this period of self reflection, loss of professional standing and — dare I say it — income. No longer would I be able to attend conferences or seminars, hand out my business card or meet with people and stand confidently behind my job title and my employer. I was now officially “not in work’’.
Sounds silly, but I had always been some sort of planner, working in some sort of government or government-related organisation — be it a metropolitan, regional or rural local council, state government agency, private consultancy, university teaching department or a national peak and advocacy body.
So, what does a professional planner — one who studied urban and regional planning as an undergraduate in the early 1980s — do in a period of self-reflection in the latter part of their career? Especially when that break coincides with uncertain times, by which I mean a world where the impacts of fast-paced technological development, climate change, increasing disasters, globalisation, and pressures for urbanisation are intensifying. Not to mention one where the incidence of ageism and other forms of hidden discrimination are rife.
The answer was not obvious to me until I attended the American Planning Conference in San Francisco in April. Many of the challenges facing American planners and their citizens are the same as ours, albeit on a larger scale and different geographies.
Having worked at all levels of government in Australia, (with I must say an increasing level of frustration and disappointment), I realised that there is another dimension to being a professional planner that I only really contemplated when I was starting off in my planning career.
That dimension is working overseas, either as employee, consultant or volunteer.
So when an opportunity arose to apply for an Urban Development Planning volunteer position in Nepal, I decided to see where this might take me. Updating my resume, I formally applied through the Australian Volunteer International (AVI) website after Easter.
Over several weeks, I participated in several interviews by Skype, online psychological tests, physical and dentist medicals, police checks, and a series of vaccinations to ensure I was covered for everything bar Ebola.
Then, after successfully completing an intensive three-day formal international volunteering training program in Melbourne in mid June, I got confirmation that I had been formally accepted by Triyuga Municipality for the position and my flight to Kathmandu, Nepal’s capital, had been booked for 15 July. My trip abroad was beginning directly from my home city of Canberra, which I must admit, was lovely to know.
In my first week in Kathmandu, I underwent an intensive five days of briefings, meetings, sight-seeing tours and introduction language training. Then on day six, I started my nine-hour road journey to Gaighat, my new hometown for the next 12 months.
The Triyuga Nagarpalika, or city municipality, is located some 450km south-east of the national capital, Kathmandu.
Gaighat is home to about 40,000 people, and services another 70,000 people living in small villages and hamlets scattered through the rural and forested hinterlands. Gaighat is also the administrative headquarters of the district of Udayapur, with a regional district coordination office and branch offices for the federal government departments of taxation, agriculture and education.
Whilst I came across many surprises on my arrival at Triyuga, the absence of any formal town planning department or employed town planners was not one of them. I am old enough to remember the days where town clerks and civil engineers ran councils, and town planners were the new kids in town.
Even though qualified planners are as scarce as hen’s teeth in Nepal, it hasn’t stopped the Government of Nepal requiring all urban municipalities to deliver an integrated urban development plan (IUDP).
These IUDPs are essential strategic land use plans and are at various stages of completion. Interestingly, several councils in Nepal have currently or recently benefited from having Australian planners on their staff. I am one of four planners in the country. The Australian Volunteers International (AVI) are seeking the services of several more professional Australian planners this financial year, and I can see this demand only increasing in coming years.
So six weeks into the job, how is the planning work coming along, I hear you ask? Does the reality match the exotic imagery that is so associated with Nepal and working as an international volunteer?
Well, I must truthfully say, the experience to date is absolutely dheri ramro (very good). Note I say it has been very good, but not perfect.
Coming to a developing country is rarely without some Everest-style challenges (excuse the pun). Leaving home and country to work overseas, especially if it is for an extended time, is never going to be easy. This is doubly the case when you are going to a country so different culturally, socially, politically, and economically to your own.
So exactly how different is life in Nepal, and how can an Australian trained planner ever believe they can make a positive difference under such strange circumstances?
Well the differences are substantial. Not only am I sweltering in monsoonal heat, living with constant power outages, exposed to a diet of Baht (rice) and more baht, but the spoken national language (Nepali) is completely foreign, as is the grammar, the written text, much of the pronunciation of words, and numbering system. Few of my colleagues have a good command of English and those that do, still struggle with conversation and understanding the Australian accent or idioms.
Then there is Nepalese time and how things are done. The Nepalese calendar has 12 months, with some months having 32 days. But their months coincide with half of each of our consecutive months. For example, the month of Bhadra began on the 18 August and finishes on 17 September. The first of Ashoj then kicks off on the 18th September and finishes on 17 October.
The Nepalese celebrate the New Year in mid April, and even though I feel pretty healthy for a middle-aged man born in the 1960s, I can’t believe I am actually living in the year 2076 BS (No, not that BS but Bikram Sambat Hindu calendar). Yes, the Nepalese calendar is 57 years ahead of the rest of the world. Thankfully, the week over here still has seven days, with each day lasting the usual 24 hours.
I work six works days a week, with Saturday being my only day off. Work starts at 10am and finishes at 5pm, and 3pm on Fridays. Scheduling and meetings run to their own clock. Jokingly referred to by the locals as “Nepali time”.
The working conditions are challenging at best. Administrative systems of the local municipalities (Palika) are pretty basic. This is not saying it is bad or good, but just the way things are. Internet and power connections are sporadic which has obviously implications for productivity. GIS systems are limited as is access to detailed data and related information.
The distinction between the public, local elected councillors (consisting of mayor, deputy mayor and ward chairpersons) and officers is blurred. Members of the community walk around the administration buildings looking for someone who can provide advice or sign off on some approval. Virtually all offices have lounges and chairs so people can be comfortable while they wait for offers of assistance. If patience is a virtue, Nepali’s are indeed an impressive people.
Some form of local government structure has existed in Nepal for many years. However, the current system of councils is virtually brand new. The Nepal system of federalism saw a new constitution introduced in 2015, and the establishment of seven provincial (state) governments and 753 municipalities in 2017.
Unlike Australia, local governments are recognised in the Nepali constitution, and their broad roles and responsibilities are also defined in law. However, this recognition doesn’t extend to providing sufficient financial, human and material resources. Pressures to deliver basic infrastructure, community services and facilities are far greater than the problems faced by even the most challenged council in Australia.
Most of the roads in the main town, let alone villages, are riddled with potholes that could challenge most professional off-road drivers. Street lighting is rare, and waste collection can be best described as basic. Stormwater systems feed directly into the river systems. Urban landscaping is poor or non-existent.
Pedestrians mingle with motorcyclists, cyclists, three-wheel taxis, mini-buses, and livestock (be they goats, chickens and cows) in a kind of orchestrated chaos that somehow avoids serious injury or loss of blood. Private vehicles are rare on Gaighat’s roads, unlike the flooding which occurs after torrential rain.
Climatic conditions in Nepal’s south where I live (in the region known as the Terai) are heavily influenced by the monsoon. From June to early October, the temperatures are oppressive, with high levels of humidity and evening heat. The Terai borders the Indian plains in the south. Once heavily forested, the region is now home to many towns and cities, and is essentially the food bowl and manufacturing heart of the country. Fifty years ago, this same area was largely uninhabited due to the real threat of malaria.
This reality of my experience of Nepal is completely different to the images of Nepal shown on Australian media, most recently those mountain climbers choreographed like some modern day equivalent of the “chain gangs”. I am only 130km directly south of Sagarmatha (Mount Everest), but the weather conditions and land use with extensive rice padis could not be more different.
No one can dispute the fact that Nepal is home to some amazing mountains (there are 17 that are over 8000m, and a total of 1310 peaks that are higher than 6000m).
It is a natural haven for those into trekking and wanting to experience a largely undeveloped and rural based country. But the Himalayas (house of snow), gives way to the Nepali Hills where you find Kathmandu, and other tourist havens such as Pokhara and Gorkha. The Hills cover a large part of the middle of the country that essentially runs east to west, and obviously lies between the Terai and the mountains.
Kathmandu is the perfect case study of why Nepal desperately needs to engage in long term spatial planning and introduce more sophisticated planning and land management systems. The city is booming and subject to haphazard urban development, traffic congestion, noise and air pollution, over-development and depressing quantities of litter. An increasing number of Nepalis are directing savings into buying housing and land. Excessive land development is resulting in booming house and rental prices, impacting productive agricultural lands, and leading to housing stress and a division in where and how people move around the city.
Does this sound familiar?
It is still too early for me to fully understand what precise role I will play in assisting Triyuga municipality to enhance both its strategic, statutory and urban design capabilities and capacities. There is much to do when it comes to appreciating the value of planning, let alone delivering on an integrated urban planning strategy or planning scheme.
But in the short time I have been here, I feel that my municipal colleagues appreciate the opportunity to hear and discuss planning and local government issues from an Australian perspective. I have reinforced that planning is as much a process, a tangible example of democracy in action, as it is an end state policy framework. I also have also argued that not everything the west does is faultless. Planning always needs to ensure that it complements the geography and local environment, and respects the social, cultural and historical DNA of the place and its people.
I am still pinching myself that I am living and working in regional Nepal. A country that for a long time shunned foreigners, and was subsequently described as the Hermit Kingdom or the Forbidden Land. One document I read stated that the country only received a total of 153 European visitors between 1881 and 1925.
Nepal has a long and complicated history. It is home to a diverse range of indigenous peoples, religion and traditions. It also is still coping with the ramifications of adopting a new federal political system and constitution that is worthy of a separate discussion. Whilst there are over 125 recognised languages, Nepali is spoken by virtually everyone. Mastering the basics of the spoken and written language is high on my list of priorities.
I feel that my biggest legacy is going to be convincing the local politicians and senior municipal officers that there is a huge cost to not doing planning or doing it poorly, and that whatever they do needs to be done with the community and not dictated to them. I also see the Sustainable Development Goals (SDGs) as an ideal framework by which to guide the future planning of municipalities through the country, and not only Triyuga nagarpalika. Let’s see what I have achieved after six months in the job …
